


What Do You Call A Rat In A Blizzard? Alternate Ending

by Normal_Ghost



Series: Anyone seen Junkrat? [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Amnesia, Cheesy, Drama, Explicit Language, Gen, Hospital Setting, I fucking threw everyone in here, Melodramatic, Multi, Overwatch Family, Post-Recall, Reaper being a sweet person, Sadstuck, Watchpoint: Gibraltar, request, tropey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Normal_Ghost/pseuds/Normal_Ghost
Summary: "Knock Knock!""Who's There?""Junkrat.""...Junkrat who?"Here's a more "concrete" end of the What Do You Call A Rat In A Blizzard? story for those who requested it. Even though I was happy with how the last one ended, here's a possible "happy" end to the story, done in my own cheery way, and it ended up being longer than the original fic.





	1. Lost And Found

**Author's Note:**

> \--- This is literally an alternate version that IS just an ending, so make sure to read the original first: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9482249 ---

“I’m telling you, Captain, there is nothing out here. You must have just seen--something gleaming off the ice,” Pharah sighed, shooting herself into the air.

“Ah, Habibti, don’t you know better than to doubt your mother,” Ana said, feigning disappointment and clicking her tongue.

“I have been up here hundreds of times, and I have _never_ seen the chimney of a covered building out here. The snow is playing tricks on your eyes,” Pharah said as she glided over the boundaries of the Antarctic Watchpoint wall, “Tracer, back me up here.”

“Dunno Pharah, you do have pretty bad eyes for a pilot” Tracer teased, zipping up the steep cliffside onto the snow-covered bluffs. Ana chuckled as she slowly made her way up, but Pharah only pouted as she flew towards where her mother supposedly saw this “chimney top”. Unsurprisingly, of the three of them, Tracer got there first.

“I’m not quite--Oh! I found something!” Tracer shouted excitedly as she ran towards the metallic item she saw in the snow, “It doesn’t look much like a chimney though, more--”

Tracer went dead silent as she uncovered the mysterious object in the snow. Scraping away the frost, it was easy to see what she had found was no structure, but a forgotten gun.

“Alright Tracer, what did--his grenade launcher,” Pharah said somberly, “Quickly, check the perimeter, he has to be around here somewhere.” Tracer nodded, and the two quickly found the deep chasm near the lost gun; at the bottom was a familiar body, completely curled up, clutching a arm broken arm.

“Habibti, aleawdat 'iilaa alqaeidat walhusul ealaa Angela huna ealaa alfawr,” Ana ordered as soon as she got to the site, staring down at Junkrat's body at the bottom of the crevasse. Pharah nodded, and immediately jetted back to get Mercy. Hearing this exchange, the other Heroes in the training range also began to clamber up where three had made their discovery.

“He was here the whole time,” Tracer said, horrified.

“Yes, and now we’re going to get him out,” Ana asserted as she pulled out a surprisingly large rope out of her robes. Tracer and her began to dig snow anchor to rappel down, just as Hanzo, Zarya, and Symetra arrived at the icy grave. Once the rope was soundly secured, Ana began her descent down to Junkrat. As each person arrived at the scene, ready to ask what was happening, they saw the gun in the snow, and they all knew. After Ana was down, Tracer quickly slid down the rope after her.

“How is he? Is he, well, is he still--” Tracer sputtered out nervously.

“He is barely breathing, and his heartbeat is weak. It is weak, but it is there for now,” Ana said, pulling out medical supplies. Tracer breathed an uneven sigh of relief, tears filling up her goggles, as she propped Junkrat’s head up to assist Captain Amari.

 

“I can see Pharah returning,” Hanzo said, squinting into the distance, “And it seems she has Dr. Zeigler in tow.”

“Is it even worth dragging her out here? I mean-- _is he even still alive_?” Symetra asked, holding her hand to her mouth with a worried and disgusted expression.

“It is not likely,” Zarya replied flatly, squatting over the massive crack in the ice, “This cold is unforgiving. Even if he is breathing down there, he will not make it back to the base. He is too small, too thin. Too exposed for the elements.”

“You would be surprised what people can live through,” Hanzo stated solemnly.  

* * *

 

Despite all odds, Ana and Mercy were able to transport Junkrat back to the base alive. Though he was hooked up to the most advanced technology in the world, he stayed comatose, the extended exposure to the freezing temperatures having wreaked havoc on his already unstable body.

“I believe that the repeated, uh, encounters with Mei’s Freeze gun may have helped ‘train’ his body for this type of shock,” Mercy explained to the group gathered in the medical bay, “Though both the fall and the month-long cold weather did extensive damage all through his systems, I am cautiously optimistic about his recovery.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Winston sighed.

“Has his old partner been contacted?” asked Soldier 76.

“Yes,” Tracer reported, “He was on the current mission in Panama, but's now on a plane flying back to us as we speak.”

“Alright,” Soldier 76 said, “Now--does anyone want to explain how I lost one of my agents for a _month_ , less than a mile away from one of our training bases? I leave for the first few months of vacation I've had in 26 years, and--”

“I believe it was mostly my fault,” Winston admitted, “When we first noticed his disappearance, it was at the same time that Roadhog had left for his own, uh, personal mission, and we had all assumed that they had both gone together without telling anyone. However, when Roadhog had returned and didn’t have the boy with him, that's when we realized that he really was missing.”

“So why didn’t you check the log to see where he was last?” Soldier 76 asked, still trying to hold onto his patience.

“That’s the part that is definitely my fault,” Winston said sheepishly, adjusting his glasses and avoiding eye contact, “That was around the time we had been implementing the new personnel cataloging system, and because of an error on my part, we lost all the logs for every employee since the recall of Overwatch. Though a gigantic slip-up on my part, we didn’t think it would affect anyone on the team--”

“Until you lost one of our newest operatives less than a mile away from one of our training courses in one of the harshest environments in the world,” Soldier 76 reprimanded.

“Jack, please calm down,” Angela urged, “You know it’s not Winston’s fault. The important thing is that we have him back.”

“Let’s just hope he stays back,” Tracer mumbled, looking at the unconscious and battered colleague laying in front of her.

 

Days passed. Junkrat was moved from the Antarctic base to Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Weeks passed. Though Mercy and the other doctors were doing their best, things seemed grim. Thankfully, he was stable, but he stayed in comatose for longer than the doctors had anticipated.

 

Then one day, he woke up.

 

“Alright, so Farha will take over for you this next month, so that you can take over at the mission at the temple of Anubis,” Tracer explained, holding a clipboard as Mercy arranged paperwork on a bedside table near her patient.

“Zzergmpharg, kein witz,” Junkrat grumbled, his head flicking to the side and his fingers beginning to twitch. The vitals on the holographic displays lit up as his brain activity and heart rate began to rise. The two dropped their papers and ran beside him.

“Iszer--where? Where am I?” he asked groggily, eyes just beginning to flutter open. Tracer put her hands to her mouth, excitedly jogging in place, looking over at Mercy, whose body had just relaxed in a gigantic wave of relief.

“Tracer, go get Mako, and be quick,” Mercy urged, running to the wall to get a fresh pair of gloves, “It’s alright Mr. Fawkes, you’re at the Gibraltar Watchpoint. The hospital on the south side.” Without hesitation, Tracer disappeared from the room in a flash of orange light.

“Oh, of course,” Junkrat replied, more than a little confused.

“Now, despite the fact that you’ve mostly healed, you still have some sensitive tissue on your back from the frostbite. Though we’ve prevented atrophy, your muscles will still be weak once you’re ready to walk again. However, with physical therapy, you should be good as new before the year is over. Also, sadly, we were forced to amputate the remainder of your right arm,” Mercy said solemnly as she quickly jotted down the information streaming across the holographic displays.

“Right, I see,” Junkrat replied again, still a little distant.

“I want you to lay perfectly still,” Mercy said, rolling a stool next to his bed and sitting down, “You’re still recovering, it’s a lot for your body to go through.” A far away zip could be heard echoing in the hallway towards the hospital room, before Tracer burst through the door.

“I found Roadhog, he’s coming as fast as he can,” she said panting, then looked down at Junkrat, “You really gave us all at Overwatch a pretty big scare there, Jamie!” After Tracer’s comment, he just looked back at her, still muddled.

“Jamie?” he asked.

“Oh right, sorry, forgot about the name. Been seeing your chart so much you almost became a real person,” she laughed, “It’s really great to have you back, Junkrat.” He continued to stare back at her.

“Junk rat?” he asked. The pair looked down at him, all sharing the same confused expression. Then, Mercy’s heart dropped. She shot up, calling for a nurse, before going back to her patient.

“Now, look at me--I want you to tell me your first name, your last name, where you were born, and the last thing you could remember before waking up,” Mercy asked clinically, shining a flashlight in each of his eyes. Tracer just looked at her, befuddled.

“Angela, what’s wrong?” she asked, terrified of coming to the realization herself.

“I--I don’t know what to say, but ’m sorry--I don’t know. I don't know any of that,” Junkrat sputtered, staring up at his doctor.

“Angela,” Tracer started, looking at Mercy in fear.

“Can you tell me who I am?” Mercy asked flatly.

“ _Angela--_ ” Tracer asked again.

“You’re my... nurse?” he offered up.

“I was afraid of this,” Mercy began somberly, flipping through the holographic displays, “I knew it was a possibility, but--I didn’t think it was likely. The prolonged exposure to the elements and the slowdown of his heart and breathing may have caused some significant brain damage.”

“Angela I don’t understand,” Tracer said, looking from Mercy to Junkrat, to Mercy, then back to Junkrat. Angela sat back down next to her patient and Junkrat looked back into her eyes.

“Jamison," she began, "I’m afraid that you may be suffering from severe retrograde amnesia.”


	2. --And Lost Again

“You mean he doesn’t remember anything? But it’ll come back after he’s woken up a bit more, right?” Tracer asked, then looked down at Junkrat, “C’mon, stop messing around, mate. You couldn’t forget about me, right? You’d always remember me?”

“Should I?” Junkrat asked. His face was still filled with confusion, but also with an unnerving amount of neutrality. He didn’t remember these people standing next to him, and he didn’t remember how he got here, or where ‘here’ was--and he didn't seem to care.

Tracer grasped her mouth in grief, tears already starting to stream from her eyes. Meanwhile, Mercy remained focused, already scheduling scans in a hope that they could understand what exactly had happened. The nurse she had called had come in, but other than prepping him for being conscious again, there wasn’t much they could do.

“Knock knock,” Genji said, appearing at the door, “I heard somebody’s patient was finally awake.”

“Oh Genji, now really isn’t--” Mercy began.

“He doesn’t remember who he is, Genji,” Tracer blurted out, staring back at him, “He doesn’t remember any of us.”

“No,” Genji said in disbelief as he walked in.

“He’s even forgotten his name. Both of them,” she continued.

“I think one of you said it was Jamie?” Junkrat offered. Genji took a step back to process this.

“How has Roadhog taken it?” he asked. Tracer was about to speak when they could hear his loud footsteps making their way down the hall.

“Nurse, keep an eye on his vitals. I think--I think we should let him know before he has to see him,” Mercy sighed, starting to walk down the hall towards Roadhog. The two in the room could hear her distant talking, but Roadhog seemed to ignore it. As the pair got closer, it was easier to make out what he was saying.

“--I don’t care if you sewed his ass on backwards, I’m gone for two hours and _that’s_ when he decides to wake up,” Roadhog stated, walking into the room, “I see I’m the last one to get here, where's the kid?” He turned towards Junkrat, but the blank expression he got staring back at him already made him tense up. Slower, he walked to the side of the bed.

“You just had to take it to far again, didn’t you?” Roadhog snorted, kneeling down next to his friend. The room was uncomfortably quiet. Junkrat didn’t say anything back.

“Well aren’t you going to explain yourself?” Roadhog asked, but Junkrat stayed staring blankly back at him.

“I’m sorry,” Junkrat started, “but I don’t--I don’t know you.”

“That’s what I was trying to explain, Mr. Rutledge--” Mercy began again, but Roadhog had abruptly stood up.

“What do you mean you don’t know me?” Roadhog demanded.

“I’m sorry but, s’not ringing any bells, cobber,” Junkrat said. Roadhog was breathing heavily, the hiss of the air moving through his breather was sharp and coarse in the hushed room.

“You drag me around the world six times and you don’t remember me?” Roadhog said angrily, clutching onto the side of the bed. Suddenly, he grabbed Junkrat in his two massive hands. Mercy and Tracer rushed into stop him.

“Mr. Rutledge please--” Mercy tried in vain, but Roadhog wasn’t listening. He just stood there glaring at Junkrat, his breather seething and popping as he continued his gigantic, slow breaths.

“I don’t know what else to say, mate,” Junkrat said nervously, hovering above his bed wearing only a hospital gown. Roadhog looked at the ground in disgust, ignoring the Tracer and Mercy’s shouting, then with one hand he took off his mask.

 

Very few people in the room had ever seen Roadhog take his mask off, much less what was underneath. He was glaring at Junkrat, their eyes locked.

“You’re saying you don’t remember this?!” he demanded hoarsely, “You don’t remember any of me?!” A look of confusion and fear flashed across Junkrat’s face, but he didn’t say anything. He just shook his head no.

Roadhog placed Junkrat back in his cot, and put on his mask back. After staring at the floor, he walked out of the room in silence, the other guests still just standing in horror.

“Look all, I’m having just as bad of a time as you all are--what is going on? Who the hell am I?” Junkrat asked, his voice cracking.

“Tracer, I think it would be best if the nurse and I had some time alone with Jamie. Could you and Genji please wait outside?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, the news of what was happening trickled through the base quickly, and more doctors and therapists were called to the base to see if anything tcould be done. Though everyone else that was involved was distressed, Junkrat was hauntingly calm. He had lost everything, but he didn’t even understand or remember the what he'd lost.

Those some of his teammates came to visit, most stayed away, unwilling to face a colleague that didn’t even recognize their face. Even those who didn’t enjoy Junkrat as a person were shaken by what had happened. After the first meeting, Roadhog was nowhere to be found. The only constant visitor Junkrat had was his doctor.

“Angela, honestly, how is he doing?” Genji asked, catching up to Mercy's brisk walk down the hallway. She looked up with tired eyes from the chart she was holding, still walking back to see her primary patient.

“It really isn’t good Genji,” she admitted, “Though the chance was slim that the initial confusion would wear off, all of the feedback that we’ve received from the tests and the scans indicate that this is very, very likely permanent. Despite all of the advancements in medicine over the last few decades, the mind is still somewhat of a black box.”

“I understand,” Genji said.

“Really I should have released him two days ago,” Mercy admitted, “Physically he’s doing stupendously, his skin has near completely healed, and he may be able to walk with a brace by this time next week, but--”

“--But he is still not well,” Genji finished, and Mercy nodded back at him, “Angela, is it alright if I suggest something somewhat, unorthodox?”

“You know my stance on unorthodox medical procedures,” she chuckled nervously.

“Is it alright if my--if Zenyatta takes a look? I know it’s not strictly scientific, but even if he can just help Junkrat emotionally, I think it might be our best option right now,” Genji offered.

“Well,” Mercy sighed, “It certainly won’t do any harm.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Good afternoon Jamie, is it alright if I come in?” Mercy asked, knocking on Junkrat’s door.

“Sure, what more could you do to me,” he joked as he waved her in. Mercy smiled as she walked in alone.

“So Jamison, you’re gonna have a new visitor today if that’s alright--” Mercy began.

“Is this one mad at me too?” he chuckled, looking out the hospital window at the boats in the distance.

“No, no. Just a friend that’s going to help us try something a little bit different, ok?” Mercy asked. Junkrat just shrugged, his hand fiddling with the powered-off remote in his bed.

“Zenyatta, could you come in please?” Mercy invited, and Genji with his hovering master came into the room.

“Cheers, mate,” Junkrat waved, setting the remote on his bedside table.

“He must be in bad shape, I don’t believe he’s ever greeted me before,” Zenyatta teased.

“He has certainly calmed down substantially,” Genji sighed, taking a seat near the door while Mercy shot him a dirty look.

“Greetings, friend, my name is Zenyatta. It is a pleasure to meet you properly after all this time,” Zenyatta said as he extended his hand to the bed. Though he was somewhat lost, Junkrat warmly shook it.

“It’s incredible,” Mercy said quietly, sitting next to Genji, “He doesn’t remember the Omic crisis at all. In fact, he’s retained little more than basic motor functions and language.”

“My friend, I am hopefully here to help heal your memory. Do I have your permission to enter your mind?” Zenyatta asked respectfully. Junkrat looked back at him not understanding, but he kept his grin on his face.

“Don’t see why not, seems like there’s plenty of room in the paddock right now,” Junkrat shrugged, no less confused, but apathetic on letting what he guessed was another doctor try their luck with his brain. Zenyatta nodded, beginning to meditate, a warm glow surrounded his body, and he placed his right hand on Junkrat’s forehead. The floating orbs around his neck began to spin, then flowed down his arm like water, each hovering over one of his patient’s chakras.

The pair were still and silent for almost two hours, the only sound that could be heard was the vital displays beeping in time with the rotation of the orbs. Mercy and Genji sat tentatively, unsure what was happening or what they could do to help. They just waited patiently, first just watching, then pulling out their own holopads to work.

“Have you ever seen him do this before?” Mercy asked hesitantly after the the second hour struck, breaking the silence.

“Never for this long,” Genji answered, his eyes trained on his master.

 

Finally, Zenyatta arched his back, mirroring the motion of taking in a deep breath, his orbs spun faster and returned up his arm and around his neck. He turned to the doctor and his pupil, his hands resting in his lap.

“Well?” Genji asked.

“It is far worse than I had imagined,” he replied gravely, “Even before the accident, I could tell his mind was terribly, terribly broken. Broken with fear, rage, radiation, and trauma. Such a delicate balance to then be disturbed in such a way--it was even less than the shell of a man, it was the _ruins_ of a shell of a man.”

“I understand,” Mercy sighed, unsure of why she had gotten her hopes up.

“Do not distress, it is chaotic, but not completely destroyed. He is resting now,” Zenyatta said, looking back on the sleeping Junkrat in bed, “And though I have done all that I can do today, I think that with work, and time, re-growth just may be possible.”

“What are you saying master?” Genji asked.

“Though it is dark, a small aperture of hope still there.”


	3. Picking Up the Peices

As the rumors of disaster had spread around the base, the rumors of hope spread twice as fast.

“What a rollercoaster,” Mei said, stirring her leftovers absentmindedly with a pair of chopsticks, “First we think that maybe he finally left Overwatch, then we don’t know where he is, then we find him alive, then we think he might be dead, then he loses his memory, but maybe he can get it back--ooph, 這很多...”

“But that’s what Overwatch is all about!” Tracer added excitedly, “It’s all about doing the impossible, no matter what! We all thought that I was gone for a long time, and you too Mei! And Jack, and Ana! And Gabe, oh and Amélie--well I guess she still is gone--and Genji was touch and go for a long time--”

“Still, it’s a lot to take in,” Mei interrupted, “How often is Zenyatta seeing him?”

“Golly, last I heard he’s going in everyday,” Tracer said, rapidly clicking her pen, “It doesn’t sound like Junkrat’s much different, but Zenyatta still says that he’s making progress,”

“Well that’s good,” Mei sighed, “Do you know how, um, how Roadhog is taking it? Have you seen him since, well since the last time you saw him?”

“I haven’t, no,” Tracer admitted.

“My last two missions were with ‘em,” Jesse chimed in, sitting down with a plate of toast, beans, and an ice cream sandwich.

“Really? He’s still going on missions?” Mei asked.

“How on earth is he doing? And are _you_ ok?” Tracer asked.

“Ooh boy that is _not_ a man that you want to catch in a bad mood,” Jesse began, “I thought he was spooky before--but I hadn’t heard him say a _thing_ the entire time I was with ‘em. Just stood there in the back of the plane with his hook, ‘til we land and he takes out half of their squad with two shots.”

“This is probably so rough on him, I couldn’t imagine!” Tracer said, distressed, “They were partners before they came to Overwatch--I think they were partners even before they left Australia,”

“Wait, were they partners or were they, you know--I had always thought that they were _partners_ , before all this? I was always too afraid to ask,” Mei said, somewhat embarrassed.

“I never thought it was any of our business,” Jesse said, unwrapping his ice cream sandwich, “Regardless, ever seeing someone that close to you go through something like this can tear you apart. I think he’s dealing with it in his own way, and who knows, maybe Zenyatta will make it like none of this ever happened.”

“This is going to sound incredibly insensitive, but I wouldn’t mind if he never recognized _me_  again for the rest of my life,” Mei sighed, going back to her leftovers.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat was flipping through the channels of the hospital's tv when he heard a knock at his door. He turned the television off before yelling “Enter!”, and was greeted by a extremely short, bearded man.

“Well hey--you,” Junkrat greeted halfheartedly, hoping it wasn’t someone else that expected him to remember them.

“Don’t feel the need to force pleasantries, son, I understand how the memory is,” Torbjorn started, “Ah, how are you feeling?” Junkrat just straightened himself up in his bed and gave a shrug.

“Doc says I may have gotten an unexpected infection in me leg, but it’s all same as ever.”

“I hear ya lad. Well, if you’re feeling well enough, me and some of the others were able to recover most of your gear from that crack we dragged you from. Thought you might want it back--and who knows, might jog a few memories loose. Wanna take a look?” Torbjorn offered. Intrigued, Junkrat nodded and slid to sit off the side of his bed. Torbjorn smiled, and brought over a box with his grenade launcher, a steel trap, a concussion mine, and his peg-leg.

“Have to admit not all of these are from the snow, did raid your workshop for a few of these,” Torbjorn admitted, “However! I know I never feel at home if I don’t have my essentials, and thought a fellow, ur, 'engineer', might feel the same. Reinhardt will be here any minute with the bigger piece. Uh, Torbjorn, by the way, if I’m not looking familiar.”

“Thanks mate,” Junkrat said, somewhat distracted as he began to rustle through the box. First, he took out his grenade launcher, and with muscle memory he was able to unclip the magazine, remove the sight and the main pin, then put the whole thing back together.

“Ah-ha!” Torbjorn exclaimed happily, “The Omnic said that this might be helpful! Did squat-worth of the work though.”

“So you said I’m an engineer?” Junkrat asked, examining the device.

“Ur,” Torbjorn grumbled somewhat sourly, “Some could definitely say that.”

“And are you saying that I made this, or just used it? It looks like it’s made out of scrap,” he said, flicking the barrel flap up and down with his fingers.

“Think it was, son. I'd recon you made it back in Australia before you really had access to more--conventional parts.”

“Looks like it’d work well enough though. Now what the hell did I use this for?” Junkrat asked, throwing the gun to his side and pulling the pegleg out of the box.

“That was your--leg,” Torbjorn admitted, somewhat unamused.

“You’re having me on!” Junkrat said in surprise, “I’ve seen the prosthetics we’ve got, no way I’m jumping around like some sort of robo pirate.”

“It’s just what you wore, son. Don’t expect me to understand ya.”

“He he, I get why so many people were angry with me then,” Junkrat chuckled, putting the leg on his bed next to his gun.

“Oh now I know you’re messing with me,” Junkrat said as he pulled out the gigantic steel trap, “You knew you could put anythin’ in this box and I'd be tricked into thinking it belonged to me.”

“Ha ha, no, I swear on my beard! These were all your weapons of choice,” Torbjorn laughed, “Always thought it was a bit barbaric, er, but the eyes were a nice touch.”

“Oh yeah look at that,” Junkrat said to himself, amused, holding the trap like a puppet. He was just about to reach into the box to grab the last item when Torbjorn stopped him.

“Now wait lad, just one thing to say before you go for this one--we’re not sure if it’s still armed or not. We _think_ it needs a detonator, but don’t go disassembling this one all willy-nilly or Angela will have me cleaning you off from the walls.”

“Right,” Junkrat said, his interest only peaking after hearing this new information. He slowly grasped the large, chunky disk in his hand. There was no recognition of the object, but holding it just felt right. Flipping it over, he spotted his logo on the top.

“I’m sensing I had a bit of a theme, here,” Junkrat said, pointing to the manic face on the mine, “Ur, the Doctor said that she removed _part_ of my other arm, but did I, well you know--”

“No son, you didn’t have a full one before we lost you. We had to pry that old prostetic out of your frozen grip when we brought you up here, but it was so mangled none of us felt like we could fix it,” Torbjorn explained, “We might still have some of the pieces--”

“S’alright mate,” Junkrat assured him, “Judging from me leg it was probably just a hook or something.”

“Haha! No lad, t’wasn’t a silly one,” Torbjorn said.

“Wasn’t a joke one, eh? That’s a relief, I was afraid it was something daggy one like your claw hand,” Junkrat laughed. Just as Torbjorn was about to rebute, there was a booming knock at the door.

“Torbjorn! How is it going?” Reinhardt asked as he peaked in, “Oh good, he is awake! Good morning Jamie, I’ve got your pride and joy right here!” As Reinhardt backed around the corner, he revealed the RIP-tire. Though it was battered and missing a few spikes, it’s unique design was unmistakable.

“Hooley dooley, what I use that bastard for?” Junkrat asked, about to slide of his bed. However, realizing he was still only wearing the flimsy hospital gown, he scanned the room for the box with what he was found in.

“Say, big guy? Could you do me a solid and grab me daks from that other box over there?”

“Uh, of course,” Reinhardt answered, confusedly walking over to the wall.

“I think he means his trousers,” Torbjorn said, “I think.”

“Ah! Of course! Here you are Jamie,” Reinhardt said as he grabbed the pants from the box, walking over to Junkrat. Junkrat thanked him with a quick “ta!”, then slipped the pants on under his gown. Taking a few deep breaths, Junkrat hopped to the end of the bed where the RIP-tire was laying, holding the bedrail as hopped closer. He crouched down in awe and curiosity.

“As I was asking, what did this one do then?” Junkrat repeated, starting to pry the casing with his fingers.

“Explode, mostly,” Torbjorn grumbled, pulling a screwdriver from his toolbelt and handing it to Junkrat.

“Exploding _on purpose_ of course,” Reinhardt assured, “Was your biggest weapon in your arsenal. You carried her on your back, then sent it driving towards the enemy when our team was at their most dire! Well--or until you _felt_ like setting it off.”

“Hold on a scratch, I carried this monster on me _back?_ ” Junkrat asked in disbelief, “Explains the batty backpack in my clothes box then. Couldn’t even believe it when I looked at what they’d found me in for the first time. Other than the backpack, they had only found me in these shorts! Can you even imagine?” Junkrat waited for a surprised reaction from these two strange old men, but they just looked back at him with complete understanding.

“Well,” Reinhardt started, “That _was_ all that you’d wear on missions.”

“No,” Junkrat said in excited disbelief.

“I swear to it,” Reinhardt continued, “You weren’t afraid of damage, and whenever Captain Amari tried to put you in more, you said you were broiling up, no matter if we were in Egypt or--well, or in Antarctica.”

“Wild,” Junkrat said to himself, “I mean, thought I was hot in here, but figured it was just the hospital.”

“Angela has actually cooled down this room considerably for you,” Reinhardt added.

“Heh,” he chuckled quietly, looking down at his tattered pants, then sighed, “You know, some of these patches look real familiar.”

“Really?” Torbjorn asked in surprise.

“That is excellent!” Reinhardt added.

“Yeah...” Junkrat mumbled, “That other big guy had some of the same ones on his vest,”

“Ah, I see,” Torbjorn sighed, “I’m sorry lad. He’ll be waiting for you when you get your memories back.”

“Yeah and if I never do, I’m not the one that has to live with those memories, yeah?” Junkrat joked, but Torbjorn and Reinhardt just stood silently, not finding any humor in the situation.

“Wait a scratch, you said that I carried this on my back, then it could propel itself towards a target?” Junkrat asked, back to digging through the inside of his machine.

“And then explode, yes,” Reinhardt answered.

“So I see that I’ve got a sort of, very crude motor in here, which also acts as the bomb as pressure build up inside of it, _but_ \--I have the whole thing encased in a rubber tire, which would absorb most of the shock of the explosion.”

“Look lad,” Torbjorn began, “As I said, I can’t explain your past mechanical decisions, that’s on you.”

“Crikey, and look at this! I used a _chain_ to rev up the engine? This thing is solid metal! And what are these for?” Junkrat asked, unscrewing one of the comically large spikes off the outside of the tire.

“I believe it was so your RIP-tire could climb walls, if the walls got in the way,” Reinhardt offered.

“Bull! Not only are they heavier than a anklebiter, they’re one of _the_ _least_ efficient shapes to be able to get a hold of a, oh what do you call it, a, a fucking wall!” Junkrat continued, “I added at least 20 extra pounds to my back with this! Not to mention they completely throw out any grip the rubber tire would have given--”

“Good afternoon Junkrat,” Mercy said, walking in, “Oh, good afternoon everyone. What are you up to in here?”

“Doctor, it seems that I have grave news,” Junkrat said coldly, looking Mercy in the eyes.

“What is it Jamison?” Mercy asked, concerned.

“I’ve just learned that I was a complete moron.”


	4. Rocking The Boat

“Tell me honestly, how have you been this past month?” Pharah asked, pouring her friend a cup of tea.

“Hoo, well even though working with Mr. Fawkes has been stressful, along with the other patients in the medical ward, it is a relaxing change of pace compared to the missions,” Mercy admitted, stirring honey into her drink.

“How _has_ the rat man been?” Pharah asked, amused, after pouring herself a cup of her own.

“It is so much different than I had expected when he was still, asleep. I’ve told you what happened when he first joined overwatch, and he and Mr. Rutledge needed their medical examinations before starting duty?”

“Oh yes,” Pharah replied knowingly. Between the broken windows, the scratches on the walls, and a concussion that Junkrat had inflicted upon himself, it was agreed that Junkrat would no longer be allowed in the medical bay _without_ taking a sedative prior.

“He’s been a perfect patient with me now. Does everything I ask him to do, relaxed whenever the needles come out, isn’t getting antsy staying in the hospital room--”

“--He’s like a blank slate” Pharah guessed.

“Exactly,” Mercy sighed, “I have dealt with only one other patient with severe retrograde amnesia like this as a result of shock, but I hadn’t known her before she lost her memory. It’s almost a perfect parallel otherwise.”

“How have Zenyatta’s--treatments--been?”

“I can only assume well, but I can tell it tires him out greatly. Sometimes he’s in there for three hours or more, working,” Mercy said, taking another sip of tea.

“So, how much of his memories has Junkrat gotten back?” Pharah asked.

“Nothing. All he knows is how to move his body, how to speak, and, interestingly, some mechanical information. Apparently he should have gotten a _little_ something back, but Zenyatta also explained it to me like this--oh how did he put it--he has to build all of the pieces before he can put the whole thing together?”

“So you’re saying that one day, just--poof! He’ll have all his memories back?” Pharah asked, pouring herself another cup.

“I’m assuming, and that’s _if_ it will even work. Even Zenyatta is doubtful, but I appreciate all of his hard work and his honesty about this.”

“Tch, well warn me when the last piece is in, I want to make sure I’m off base that day,” Pharah teased, and Mercy laughed.

“It would be interesting having him back, that’s for sure,” Mercy started, then began laughing, “We’ve had four months without a major accident, and I have already gotten used to it.”

 

* * *

 

“Ok, so we’re going to check on that little infection in your leg again, then you’ll be meeting with your physical therapist at 6 today instead of 3, is that alright?” Mercy asked, flipping through her holopad.

“Right with me,” Junkrat replied, holding his peg-leg in his arm and bending it on the bed beside him.

“Perfect, now if you- _OH!_ ” Mercy jumped, not seeing Roadhog in the door behind her until she turned around, “My apologies, Mr. Rutledge, I didn’t see you there. Good morning.”

“Morning,” He replied back flatly, first looking at Mercy, then at his friend in the bed. It was impossible to read his expression under the mask; Junkrat just looked forward towards him in discomfort.

“What are you up to today, Roadhog?” Junkrat asked politely, unsure of what to say.

“Mission later,” he stated, not moving from the doorway.

“I keep askin’ about you, sounds like you’ve been, uh, been doing a lot of missions recently,” Junkrat offered.

“Good to keep busy,” Roadhog said, “76 made me check in here before we left.”

“Right,” Junkrat said, giving somewhat of a smile.

“Junkrat is doing excellently. We’ve hit a little snag in his right leg, but he should be released soon,” Mercy explained. Saying nothing more, Roadhog nodded at the doctor, then left back towards the hanger.

“Pshoo, well that was like pullin’ teeth,” Junkrat sighed, re-relaxing in bed, “Is there something I _should_ be doing? I just don’t know how to help the guy.”

“You’re doing nothing wrong, Jamison, Mr. Rutledge is just in a difficult position right now. There’s really nothing you can do--”

“Welp! Gonna stop worrying ‘bout it, then!” Junkrat said cavalierly, grabbing the remote and turning on his television. Mercy sighed, and sat on the edge of her patient’s bed.

“Jamie, have you really gotten none of your memories back?” she asked, looking at his face, worried.

“Nope,” he said, eyes not moving from the tv, “Learned a lotta facts about myself, but nothing’s jostling the ol’ memory bank. Lucio came in a bit ago and gave me a rundown on what all happens round here--”

“You still haven’t let me schedule an appointment with a psychotherapist, Jamie. What you must be going through--”

“Look,” he said, shutting off the television, “Scouts honor--I really am feelin’ fine. Really. Getta remake me from scratch. Seems like the only ones having any problems is other people. Nothin’ I can do about that.”

 

The muffled purr of the ship warming up could be heard on the other side of the door. Looking through the window, Reaper could see the rest of the squad buckling themselves in, ready to fly off the windy island. He turned back to McCree and Orisa.

“I appreciate you both coming in at the last minute,” he thanked, starting to take off his own ammo belt.

“We were on-site anyways,” McCree assured him, “And I really think it’s the proper thing to do. Really, thank _you_ , Gabe, for thinking of him. You ready for this Orisa?”

“Oh yes. I am happy to assist in any way that I can. Efi also insists that I do more field work as often as possible,” Orisa replied, smiling in her eyes.

“Better get in there, they’re waiting for takeoff,” said Reaper, turning his focus to the hallway. McCree and Orisa waved a quick goodbye, before opening the heavy doors into the hanger and heading out. Reaper grumbled as he continued taking off more ammo belts draped across his body.

Looking forward, he could see Roadhog’s gigantic frame sprint into the hall. Sighing, he set down the last of his guns and walked towards him.

“Roadhog, we need to talk. You’re not going on the mission today,” he said, slowing the man down before he got to the doorway. Roadhog grunted in frustration.

“76 told me to go to the medical bay, he’s the reason I’m late,” Roadhog said angrily, throwing his gun down on a nearby bench before walking towards the office.

“Roadhog, I think you need a break from missions,” Reaper said, following Roadhog in the office, “That’s why I stayed behind too.” Roadhog shot him a confused look, but continued to walk.

“Still haven’t reached the max, still have 20 hours left on my file for the month,” Roadhog said. Before he could reach the main holoscreen, Reaper apparated in front of him.

“Roadhog,” Reaper started, uncharacteristically genuine, “It’s not the bureaucracy--it’s not even your performance--but you need to slow down for--for you.” Roadhog looked down at him, not saying anything, waiting for a better explanation.

“Look, I know what you’re going through. I mean--I've never experienced the exact same situation, but I’ve done what you’re doing right now. It’s fine to focus on your work when you’re working through shit, but you’re running away from the problem.”

“Lost partners before, s’just life,” Roadhog stated, gently pushing Reaper to the side. Reaper sighed, and somberly reached over and turned off the holo-screen.

“I don’t want to pretend like I’m you, but I always thought I knew what it was like to lose people. It’s war, people die, but nothing can prepare you for losing someone that’s still standing right in front of you. At least in death there’s a sense of, finality, but losing someone’s mind--all that person is now is a walking reminder of what you’d lost, with a sick sense of hope poisoning your emotions.” As Reaper talked, you could almost hear his voice crack under the growling smoke.

“Losing Amelie was one of the hardest things I ever went through. It almost destroyed me. I couldn’t even imagine what you must be going through, with someone so close.”

Without saying anything, Roadhog turned the holoscreen back on, and flipped through the missions calendar. After staring for a few minutes, he minimized it, and started to head out the door.

“Do me a favor--next time I’m off a mission, tell me before I drag my ass across the base.”

 

* * *

 

More days passed, the routine continuing--a visit from Mercy in the morning, from Zenyatta in the afternoon, and then some specialist in the evening. However, no matter how much poking and prodding Junkrat took, he always stayed complacent, just as happy being treated as he was watching tv or learning about “himself”. It had been like this so long, Mercy had just started to think of him as a permanent part of the hospital. However, one day Zenyatta caught her right after one of his sessions.

“Greetings Angela, may I please talk with you before you go back in?” he asked as he closed Junkrat’s door behind him.

“Oh--of course. What is on your mind? You were in there for quite awhile today, is everything alright?” she asked.

“Thank you, and yes, I actually have some excellent, and some dangerous, news,” Zenyatta started, chuckling nervously, “I have made some unbelievable progress this time. Though nothing is guaranteed, I think there is a good chance that Junkrat may become himself again. Perhaps even sometime soon.”

“That is excellent news, Zenyatta. Is that also the dangerous news?” she asked, jokingly.

“Hmm, you may be right,” he said, a smile in his voice, “But sadly, no. As I’ve said before, his mind is incredibly fragile. Though I have built up the pieces that soon may come together to complete his spirit, they are--shaky, and unsupported--like building blocks stacked to the ceiling.” Mercy listened attentively, but still didn’t quite understand what he was saying.

“Do not give him any new information right now. I have done as much as I could, but sadly I could not finish,” he said, exhaustion now clear in his voice, “Throwing another ball at a juggler could cause everything to collapse.”

“So you’re saying you could lose all the progress you two have made?” she asked.

“Much, much worse I’m afraid. Another collapse of his mind and there will not be a man left in the rubble,” he said, gloomily, “Anything that he has already seen or learned about himself is fine, but perhaps keep the television off for the week. I will ask Genji to inform the others.”

“I think I understand,” Mercy said, “I cannot thank you enough, Zenyatta, I really can’t.”

“Regrowth is it’s own reward,” he said, giving her a slight bow before gliding down the hallway towards his room. Mercy gave a deep sigh, then stepped back inside to see her patient.

“Hello Jamie, how are you feeling after your time with Zenyatta?” she asked cheerily.

“S’was right,” he said, once again fiddling with his peg leg on the bed, “Don’t feel no different, but apparently me brain’s a bit of a ticking time bomb.”

“Oh Jamie don’t be so dramatic,” Mercy shushed, trying to not think about that possibility herself, “Did he also give you the good news? Are you excited that you might really get all your memories back?” Junkrat shrugged, as he did a lot, then gave a bit of a chuckle.

“Guess I don’t really know what I’m missin’ though, do I?”


	5. Goodbye, Junkrat.

“Mei! Mei did ya hear?!” Tracer yelled, sprinting up to her friend in the cafeteria, “Mei!”

“Shh, Lena, I can hear you,” Mei said, a little embarrassed, but excited to be with her friend, “What are you talking about?” She was digging through one of the stations gigantic communal fridges, desperately trying to locate her lunchbag.

“About Junkrat! He’s getting his memory back!” she said excitedly and as quietly as she could. Jogging nervously in place, bits of her granola bar were slowly being shaken loose and falling to the floor.

“We still don’t know if he’s getting his memory back, it’s just that his chances are looking better,” Mei said calmly, “Also you took away something _completely_ different than what I did from that announcement yesterday.”

“Well what was your takeaway?”

“That Junkrat is even more unstable than usual, and potentially his entire nervous system could shut down if we’re not careful--”

“Bah you’re such a worrier, Mei! Don’t worry, the lad’s in good hands--oh I think I see it, someone’s moved it to the top shelf here.”

“Thank you,” Mei sighed, reaching up for her bag, “All I’m saying is--we just don’t know what’ll happen. I’d hate for you to get your hopes up again.” Once Mei had gotten her bag, grabbed her tupperware of leftovers, and started opening it, walking towards the microwave. However, not watching in front of her, she slammed straight into something towering behind her, dropping her food and getting knocked to the ground. Looking up, she saw the unmistakable, dead-eyed, black mask of Roadhog.

“Try watching where you’re going,” he grumbled flatly, before walking past her to the fridge. Instantly Mei’s face went to a burning red, and fear took over her whole body.

“I’m--I’m sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry--” she stuttered, frantically trying to collect herself and her food off the floor. Roadhog just ignored her, and instead just started his search for his own food.

“Calm down love, it’s ok!” Tracer assured her, bending down to help out with the mess.

“Excuse me!” a fourth voice suddenly boomed out from a few feet away, “Don’t you think you should help her?” Zarya was walking over, pushing through the tables and chairs to assist her friend.

“What?” Roadhog asked, unimpressed, looking away from the fridge.

“You knock her over, don’t help with her things, and then don’t even apologize?!” Zarya responded, furious.

“Zarya, really, it’s ok,” Mei sputtered out, her voice shaking as she wiped up more of the mess.

“No Mei, I don’t think that it is. He knocks you to the floor, ruins your lunch, and is doing nothing to apologize!” Zarya continued, furious.

“Look, she ran into me, ok?” Roadhog groaned, grabbing his own lunch and starting to walk away.

“Guys, I really don’t think--” Tracer began, trying in vain to diffuse the tense mood.

“ _She_ ran into _you_?” Zarya asked, appalled, then grabbed onto his huge arm, “We are not done here.” Roadhog glared back at her.

“Do _not_ touch me,” he growled.

“What? The big man isn’t strong enough to own up to his mistakes?” she teased, tightening her grip.

“Zarya--” Tracer started again, but was drowned out.

“I said do _not_ touch me,” he growled louder, forcefully pushing her hand off of his arm.

“Swallow your pride and apologize to Mei, big man,” Zarya demanded, getting up in his face.

“Learn your place and _back off_ ,” he threatened.

“Learn my _place_ ?!” she gawked, “You do _not_ talk to me like this.” Zarya shoved Roadhog hard in the chest, surprisingly sending him a step back into the side of the fridge. Roadhog heaved in hard, his respirator hissing sharply, his knuckles turning white as he held a fist at his side.

“ _Children!_ ” Ana shouted loudly across the room, walking towards the drama, “ _Behave!_ This is a military base, not a schoolyard--what is happening?” Zarya, Roadhog, and Tracer’s heads all snapped towards the captain; it seemed that Mei had already disappeared to the bathroom in the commotion.

“W-well you see, m’am--” Tracer started.

“Ran into Mei, and Zarya wanted me to apologize. Sorry.” Roadhog stated bitterly, throwing his lunch into a nearby trashcan before walking off. Confused, Ana walked closer to talk more with Zarya, but Tracer watched Roadhog as he stomped off. Biting her lip, she excused herself and ran after him.

“Hey, Roadhog, are you doing alright?” she asked when she had caught up.

“I’m done,” he growled flatly as he continued down the hall.

“What?” Tracer asked, needing to jog to keep up with his long strides.

“Don’t know why I joined this circus,” he grumbled, ignoring Tracer as he continued seething down the hallway. Seeing that he needed some space, she backed off, skidding to a stop as he continued to the main office.

“Hooph,” she sighed, pushing her fingers through her hair, “Well there goes the mood for the day...”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Alright Jamie, Zenyatta’s gonna be a bit later than normal today. He said that he wanted to meditate before he came, so he’ll be here an hour later. Is that alright?” Mercy asked, going through her checklist on her holopad.

“Sounds fine to me,” Junkrat said, tossing an empty canister into the air over and over again. Mercy continued to go through the daily checklist, but halfway through, something in the hall window caught Junkrat’s eye.

“Ur, looks like I might have a visitor, again,” he interrupted, pointing to the doorway. Mercy turned, and saw Roadhog sitting outside the room.

“Ah, well, I suppose we should see what he needs,” she sighed, walking to the door. She invited him in, Roadhog seemed more anxious than normal.

“Just, wanted to talk before I go,” he started, staring at the floor, “I’m--leaving Overwatch.”

“Why don’t I give you two some time alone,” Mercy offered, “I can run these blood samples over to the lab.”

“Thanks,” Roadhog said, watching Mercy leave the room. Once she closed the door, he looked back to his friend in the bed. Junkrat was sitting up, holding his knee against his chest.

“Suppose, heh, I suppose I’ll be seein’ even less of you now then?” he joked nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“I know you won’t--miss me--but I thought I'd say goodbye,” Roadhog said, “Before I leave.”

“Yeah, I getcha,” Junkrat said, staring at the floor, “Look, this is gonna sound real batty, but is it ok if I could give you a hug before you're off?” He sheepishly looked back up, and Roadhog’s shoulders relaxed as he walked to the bed. It was awkward, as Junkrat was both half-laying down and had only one arm, but Roadhog’s expansive reach made up for it.

They hung there for a long time. Even though they were both half-strangers to each other, they both knew how important this was. However, Junkrat was a little more important to Roadhog than Roadhog was to the amnesiac, and the patient found his head wondering a bit. He noticed Roadhog’s giant hands beside him.

“Heh, look at that. We’ve got the same polish on,” he chuckled halfheartedly.

“Yeah. Yeah we do,” Roadhog replied, not ready to let Junkrat go yet.

“Yours look a bit rougher than mine do, though,” Junkrat added, “Guess sittin’ in a hospital bed doesn’t really wear ‘em out, huh?” Roadhog snorted, and started to relax his grip a bit.

“Shame though, my bottle’s out and I couldn’t steal yours, 'cause it's here,” he added, breathing in deeply.

“Well, better stop by Ilios before you head off to, well off to wherever you’re goin’--”

“Ilios?” Roadhog asked, pulling Junkrat away to look at his face.

“Yeah,” he replied, a little confused, “It’s the only place that sold half decent stuff that didn’t peel off and was matte--”

“Who told you that?” Roadhog asked, looking into Junkrat’s eyes.

“Well no one, that was the problem. We had to basically lift polish off every place in Europe to figure it out for ourselves--” Junkrat continued, still a little confused at Roadhog.

“Do you--remember that?” Roadhog asked, holding his breath.

“I mean I _guess_ I--” Junkrat started, then his head snapped to look Roadhog in the face, “I do! I do remember that, holy hell, that was on our tour of Europe, right before we nicked the--the--the faberge egg!” Roadhog didn’t say anything, he just kept holding onto Junkrat.

“I had hired you! No, I hired you back in the GAFA, but then it worked out so well we just kept goin--we was junkers together!”

“We were,” Roadhog said, his voice cracking.

“Fuck, the Omnics, those tin cans _fucked_ us-- _and i've been lettin' one of them into my brain!?_   What was I thinkin’?!” Junkrat began to shout, “There was--was the war, but somehow now blokes are stupid enough to team up with ‘em-- _Overwatch._ We started goin’ legit cause the market was so shit to sell our loot in! That’s why I’m here--”

“I heard yelling, is everything alright?” Genji said, running into the room.

“You! You were the one that got killed by his brother and now's got an aluminum ass!” Junkrat shouted excitedly, climbing over Roadhog’s back to look Genji in the eyes.

“That is--technically right...” Genji started, sourly, “Wait, what is going on? Is his memory back already?”

“You bet it’s back, ya drongo!” Junkrat yelled, pounding his fist on Roadhog’s back, “Wait, and--and you--”

“And me,” Roadhog repeated, smiling.

“The--the mask, you started wearing that in the Junkers. One of me grenades misfired and it had taken your face off,” Junkrat said, tears suddenly running down his face, “I--I thought you were gonna kill me, I thought I was a dead man--but--but you didn’t.”

“I _wanted_ to kill you,” Roadhog teased, squeezing him tighter.

“But you didn’t. And--and that’s why I asked you to be my partner later on. Most blokes tried to kill me and I didn’t even blow their faces off yet, but you didn’t--”

“Jamie!” Mercy shouted, running into the room, “What is going on?!”

“You didn’t tell me he had gotten his memory back,” Genji said, somewhat excited.

“Not that I knew of,” she said uncertainly, running over to his vitals. His heart rate, breathing, brain activity--everything was completely erratic.

“--and that’s when I lost me arm,” Junkrat had continued ecstatically, his skin going pale.

“Jamie,” Mercy said harshly, pushing him to the bed, “Jamie you have to calm down immediately--”

“Excuse me? Calm down? _Calm down?_ ” Junkrat asked manically, pushing her arm away, “The first memory I have since I was a popsicle and you want me to calm down?”

“Genji, get Zenyatta **now** ,” Mercy said forcefully, pressing the emergency button in the room.

“Popsicle, popsicle--crikey you all don’t even know what happened to me--in there, you--you would not believe--ieve it!” Junkrat said, having difficulty breathing but not slowing down. Two nurses ran into the room, and Mercy tried to put an oxygen mask on his face but he just clawed it away.

“Roadie--R--Roadie should’a--should’a seen my--my arm--m” Junkrat attempted, his face souring into a sickly-looking yellow. He had still been fighting with the nurses when his body suddenly began convulsing, spit frothing at his mouth. Roadhog was pushed out of the room, and as quickly as the seizure had started, Junkrat went limp, his vitals flatlining.

“ _Blue!_ ” Mercy shouted desperately, a code team already rushing into the room.


	6. Epilogue

Tracer was sitting at the table forlornly, stirring her stew with a plastic fork, just staring at the vegetables as she waited for the broth to cool down. She looked up and could see Mei walking over with tired eyes--it didn’t even look like she had brought a lunch with her today.

“You heard the news?” Tracer asked as her friend sat down.

“Yes,” Mei sighed, putting her head in her hands, “How are you taking it?”

“Me? You already know how I feel, love,” Tracer started compassionately, “Really--how are you doing?”

“Honestly?” Mei said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I’m actually a lot more upset than I thought I’d be. I really didn’t think it’d get to me like this--” As Mei talked, Tracer put a had comfortingly on her friends back.

“OMG, Mei!” D.VA interrupted, running over, “Mei I just got in, what happened?” Her friend looked up at her, exhausted.

“Junkrat just got his memory back,” Mei grumbled.

“No freaking way,” D.VA said in disbelief, “When?”

“Apparently sometime yesterday, we all got the news this morning,” Mei continued, “He’s managed to escape from his room and cause the power to go out once already. Other than that, he’s been messaging everyone on the base _constantly_.”

“Wait a minute, is he MED-3758?” D.VA asked, pulling out her phone, “I just thought it was some crazy fan--”

“Nope. That’s him,” Tracer sighed, looking at her own phone, “I mean, at least he’s remembering stuff about us, right?”

“I’d prefer not to read my life story as told by Junkrat,” Mei said bitterly, “I knew telling him about my accident was a mistake--”

“That is _wild_ ,” D.VA laughed, “How is everyone else taking it?”

“Well, the feelings around the base are a bit mixed,” Tracer admitted, “But I for one am happy he’s feeling better.”

“I’m sure Mercy is feeling great, after not being able to help him for so long--” D.VA began.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that...” Tracer said, chuckling.

 

“Jamison! I swear to _**God** _ I will get another pair of restraints if you do not stay in your bed!” Mercy shouted, exasperated, chasing Junkrat around his hospital room.

“Aw, but you just know I’ll slip out of those too, mate” Junkrat teased, “Takes more than some bodgy cuffs to keep ol’ Junkrat down--”

“Mr. Fawkes,” she said, putting her hands on her temple, “I promise you, all of this is for your own good. The stress of your little episode yesterday took an enormous toll on your body. We need to get you--”

“Hah! You think I need to stay in some wack bed then? Not even _death_ can hold me down! The day I lost me leg I still drove fifteen miles, killed twelve tin cans, and didn’t even break a sweat! As soon as I tire you out, I am out the door!” he said, grabbing ahold of the IV lines in his arm, ready to pull them out.

“Jamison, no!” she shouted, climbing over the bed, but before she could stop him he had already torn out the tubes, hopping towards the closed window. Frustrated, she leaped for him, knocking him over and pinning him to the ground.

“Schwachsinnige--you need those, Jamison!” she yelled, exhausted, “Just like last time, you’ll get twenty feet before passing out--and _what_ have I told you about pulling out IVs and needles??”

“I have bullets and debris graze me daily, I think I can handle a little prick gettin’ pulled out of my skin,” he replied cavalierly.

“But you these are causing lacerations to your _veins_ , the internal damage from the hematoma you’ve given yourself is increasing your hospital stay by _days_ ,” she groaned, futilely trying to make him understand.

“Bad time?” Roadhog asked, peeking in the opened door.

“Mr. Rutledge, thank goodness you’re here,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief, “Could you please help our favorite patient get back to the bed?”

“Roadie, you traitor--” Junkrat snapped as Roadhog walked over and easily picked him up, putting him in his bed. Before he could spring back up, Roadhog set one of his hands squarely on Junkrat’s chest, making it impossible to wiggle free. Junkrat seemed to have calmed down somewhat, but continued crossly shooting Mercy a dirty look.

“Thank you,” Mercy said, panting, as she pulled the loose hair out of her eyes, “If you would keep an eye on him for a few minutes, I will be right back. I just--I just need to get a fresh batch of sedatives to help him through his treatments today.” With that, Mercy took a deep breath, and walked out of the room.

“You almost fucking died. They need to finish fixing you up,” Roadhog said, taking a seat without moving his hand off of Junkrat.

“ _Almost died--_ but nothin’ can kill me, mate,” Junkrat said, smiling manically. Roadhog just sighed, looking to the ceiling in disappointment.

“Ya don’t understand, mate, you know how long they’ve been trying to keep me in here after I got me memory back?” Junkrat demanded. Roadhog didn’t say anything, just looked down at Junkrat’s earnest face looking back at him.

“A whole _day_. I’m gonna rot in these blankets before they let me out of here!” Junkrat said as he hit his head on his ripped-up pillow.

“They did bring you back to life--twice--and got your memory back. Think they know what they’re doing,” Roadhog said, relaxing in his chair. Junkrat just waved him off. The pair sat in silence for awhile.

“Torbjorn told me the ‘complaints’ you had with your gear,” Roadhog said, “You know who _else_ said those exact same things?”

“Piss off...” Junkrat groaned, embarrassed.

“Been telling you that for the last decade, dipshit,” Roadhog said smugly, leaning into Junkrat.

“Yeah yeah, your medal’s in the mail,” Junkrat grumbled, “Maybe I’ll change a few things--but I’m keepin’ the spikes!” Roadhog just laughed him off, before taking in a deep breath.

“Better not put me through this again.”

“Fine, I’ll stop fighting the doctor--”

“Wh--no. Meant the last four months.”

“Oh, right,” Junkrat said, looking sheepishly at the ground, “Promise you won’t leave to go to a surprise funeral the same day I get thrown into a ravine?” Again, Roadhog just laughed, and the two sat together in silence for a little while longer.

 

“Roadie?”

“Hm?”

“Next time one of these drongos calls me Jamie, I’m gonna take their legs out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ain't I a stinker? Also I was THIS CLOSE to actually just killing him as the end of the story, but I figured that that would be a little too mean, even for me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! There's nothing I enjoy more than comments and critiques, so feel free to let me know what you think.


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